Mirrors
by Aellepi
Summary: Charles Xavier was a lucky boy. His parents loved him. His home was big and luxurious. His life was filled with the knowledge that he was special. It took a room full of mirrors and people he called friends to betray him for him to realize this. FC AU


My first X-men fic. It took a lot of blood, sweat and tears for me to get this one down. But finally, I managed and here it is! :D

Ho-hum... Nothing else to say 'bout this. So, without further ado, enjoy! And please **review**!

**Warning:** This is AU, if you hadn't already read the summary. It also does NOT have a happy ending, just for your information. There is also some... Well, there are no pairings, but there is some friendly Charles/Emma time in here. And, obviously, some hinted Emma/Sebastian.

**Disclaimer:** The only things that I own that has anything to do with the X-men movies/cartoons/comics are the three DVDs that I have, plus the one movie that I recorded to another DVD from the telly. So, yeah... Do the maths yourselves, okay?

* * *

><p><strong>...And why you should not trust just anybody<strong>

Charles Xavier was a lucky boy on many counts. His parents, although not the most homey persons, loved him. His home, usually devoid of anyone apart from him and the servants, was big and luxurious. His life, empty in so many ways, was filled with the knowledge that he was _special_.

Charles was not the kind of person to point that out to people as he knew that his specialness made his father and mother nervous. Not to mention the servants, though he found he could make them forget that and treat him in any way he wanted. It was so easy; all he needed to do was concentrate and _whisper_. Not really a whisper, but as Charles had not yet found a proper word to explain what he did, he called it just that. Mostly he kept the servants from remembering the specialness. He hated the look of fear in their eyes.

But because of that, he found that he was lonely. Wanting and needing company, he would go to his father and ask him to take him somewhere. ¨No, Charles. What if you did something?¨ Would always invariably be the answer. Then he would go to his mother and ask the same. ¨No, Charles. I cannot. You'd be terribly bored and then you might _do_ something.¨ Would be her answer.

Charles was a boy so lucky he never believed it to be the truth.

He disliked the way he was kept inside the house, positively detested the way his parents thought he did not know when they were lying, _even when he had given them all that proof in that matter_. But, no. The Xavier family still kept their son as much at home as they could. Saying that he had no control of his specialness, they would keep him hidden from everyone.

Charles knew as a fact, that there were only a few persons in New York or outside who were even _aware_ of his existence. They all thought that the Xaviers had not had a child or that he had died or something as horrible and untrue. It sometimes made him act rashly, like the time when the seven-year old Charles ran from home, charming with his specialness one of the servants into coming with him. He had only returned that time, when he became aware from the servants mind, a very nice man by the name of Jones, that he had a fiancée and a 'happily ever after' waiting for him at home should he return.

His parents paid for an instructor, a private teacher for Charles in the hopes that it might ease his restlessness. A man, whose knowledge soon was clearly not enough. Charles just used his specialness to dig out anything he needed to know from the man's mind. The teacher was changed to another man, this one older and smarter, one who asked questions with answers not as straightforward as one would have thought. They made Charles' agile mind tingle, made him aware of the fun of finding things out the _hard way_. After that he refrained from using his specialness on his smart, chess-loving teacher.

At the age of eight, four years after Charles had noticed his specialness, he made the decision of not using it on other people as well, besides his teacher, without their consent if possible. At least, not _too_ much. There had been a maid from the very beginning, someone he had used his specialness on, as an experiment and to rid him of boredom. Eileen MacTaggert was closer to Charles than anyone else had been since the discovery of his specialness. Understandably, the boy had been shocked to find that Eileen had become unstable, mostly due to the serious mental exertions from Charles that her mind had never had the ability to withstand in the first place.

He was sure, although he had received no proof for this assumption, that he was not the only one who was special. There had to be others as well. He had asked his father, a leading genetics researcher, about it, but he had evaded answering Charles' question. Reading his mind, Charles had understood that although the man did not know if it was true, he'd had his suspicions on the matter.

Because of that suspicion, Charles picked up the habit of walking to Central Park weekly and let the flow of life go through his mind, concentrating on finding someone with a specialness like him. Sometimes, if the overall air in the city seemed nervous, he would charm one of the servants to come with him. Although in their charmed state they would not be very helpful, being with an adult lessened the risk of getting hurt. Not that Charles actually thought he could not charm the assaulter if the need arose. It was mostly for his parents and teacher's sake rather than his own.

.-.-.

It was like this, on one of his visits to the park, that Charles Xavier, eleven years old, noticed a strangeness in the multitude of thoughts flowing around him. When usually the thoughts were loud as yells or silent as whispers, the strangeness came from the fact that there was someone thinking in _speech_. Like they were talking with someone normally, using their vocal chords, rather than just thinking in their minds.

And then Charles heard distinctly an answering thought.

_...sure? That one might be a hard one to convince._

Charles felt his heart beat faster. Finally, he had found what he was looking for, he was sure of it, because the two thoughts were different from each other. Different in a way that only people themselves can be. As subtly as he could, he listened in on their conversation, feeling elated when his theory was proven correct.

_**Emma, dearest, you should have faith in me. **__**You**__** of all people know-**_

_Wait._

Charles started to grin to himself, keeping his eyes on the ground beneath his feet. He, for some reason, wanted to see if they would be able to find him when he wasn't projecting anything different from everyone else. He knew full well that if he did not soon identify them or himself to them, he might lose the only lead he had on others just like him.

He heard her, because the owner of that voice was undeniably a woman, think distinctly, _Don't think I haven't noticed you._ The mental voice reminded him of crystals or diamonds being struck gently, the clear, pure sound that comes of it. Fluttery, yet infinitely stronger and more persistent than any other sound he could imagine.

Charles kept his eyes downcast, ignoring the thought sent out. It seemed to him as if his place was not yet known to the telepath, because that was what she must be. He slowly tilted his head upwards, leaning his head on the back of the bench he was sitting on. His eyes looked uninterestedly at the cloudy sky as he brought a hand to his forehead as if to shade his eyes. Surreptitiously his index finger touched his temple.

**Find me if you can.**

He sent the thought out from a man on his left, and from a woman pushing a trolley behind him, and from a little boy and an old man sitting on another bench a great distance from him. It spread like a ripple on the surface of a lake, moving quietly and almost unnoticed through everyone's minds, Charles' included. He could feel the slight jolt from the other telepath as she heard and felt it.

Charles closed his eyes and calmed his breathing. Listening with his ears and mind.

Someone stepped in front of him and stopped. ¨There you are.¨ _There you are._ The words were said aloud and projected into his mind at the same time, making it seem as if the words had an echo.

Charles opened his eyes and looked at the woman in front of him. She was quite tall, made taller by the high heeled white boots she was wearing. Her hair was long and blond, even blonder than Charles' mother's was. Her skin was white as were her clothes, a tight skirt down to her mid-thigh and a zipped up leather jacket. She was thin, the jacket and skirt showing off her considerably enticing, to the men and some of the women in the park who noticed, curves. Charles could see how she would make such an impression on people, as her beauty was apparent to anyone. The curve of her Cupid's bow seemed to be perfect, as was her smallish nose and her eyes... Oh, her eyes. They scared Charles a little, the disconcerting mix of crystal blue and diamond white in them demanding attention. The effect was sealed with the mellow pink of her lipstick.

Charles stared at her for a few seconds and then smiled widely, showing his teeth. ¨Yes. I'm glad you found me, Miss. I think I would have been disappointed if I would have had to show myself to you.¨ He stood, quickly touching his left temple. The servant, a man called Randall, stood as well and moved behind the bench as Charles held out his hand to the woman. ¨Charles Xavier.¨

She watched him as he moved, flickering her eyes quickly to Randall before taking the proffered hand. ¨Emma Frost.¨ She looked over her shoulder and indicated behind her, ¨And this is my associate, Sebastian Shaw.¨

A man stepped up next to her and shook Charles' hand as well. He gave the boy a crooked smile. ¨A pleasure.¨ The man was taller than the woman and his skin was a warmer colour. He wore a black business suit with a dark blue shirt. On his feet he wore black dress shoes. The man looked like a normal businessman if not for the fact that his clothes looked too expensive for one. His eyes were brown, as was his hair, and they looked at you like he has had a lot of experience in life. It seemed like the experience was at that moment seizing up Charles. Charles on the other hand noticed the ragged skin of his cheeks, the strength of his chin and the sharpness of his nose.

Charles sat on the bench again, still smiling at the two adults. ¨I knew that I wasn't the only one.¨

Shaw sat down on Charles' left side and Frost on his right. ¨Of course. We mutants are many, although not many are as eager to confirm that as you or Emma and me are.¨ He leant back, draping his right arm on the backrest behind Charles.

¨Mutants?¨ Charles blinked at Shaw. He frowned, ¨You call yourselves, _ourselves_, mutants because of the genetic mutation?¨ He found it somehow wrong. The word 'mutant' inflected an idea of wrongness, which Charles did not think of himself. But in some way... It sounded _groovy_.

Frost raised an almost perfectly shaped eyebrow. ¨And how would a young boy, such as yourself, know that?¨ Her eyes unfocused slightly and Charles felt her mind prodding at his. He let her see his father; the way he looked when he was leaving to go to work, how he looked when he returned home in the evening and the concentration when he was engrossed in his work. A little smile pulled at her lips at the mental images, whether from humour or contempt. _That would explain it. He has experimented on you__._ There was a faint reproaching tone to her mental voice.

Charles shook his head and gave her a smile, to reassure her. **I didn't mind, Miss Frost. I was as curious about myself as he was.** Charles widened his grin a bit. **In fact, I encouraged him a bit. Just a bit.**

Frost smiled at him a real smile then, her eyes moving to Shaw's over Charles head. She projected quickly to him what Charles had told her.

Shaw threw back his head and laughed, ¨Well, that is interesting. You use your gift regularly?¨ His brown eyes twinkled with merriment, but Charles felt a strange tenseness from his mind, as if the question meant more than the casual query it had been made to seem. Charles watched as Shaw turned to look at Randall standing behind them, the man's hands clasped behind his back.

¨Not really, Mr. Shaw.¨ Charles brought his index finger to his temple and touched Randall's mind gently, feeling for any anomalies, but found none. Since Eileen, he had been as gentle as he knew how when he applied his charm. ¨Not regularly.¨ His eyes moved to look in an entirely new direction when he felt a mind he had put a tab on start to transmit a certain signal. He concentrated on it and read the intentions. ¨Oh, drat. Mother is returning home. I have to be there before her.¨

¨Why?¨

Charles stood up and faced the two adults. ¨She'll worry if I'm not", he smiled at them and didn't move his finger from his temple, charming Randall to him. ¨Do you live around here?¨

Shaw just looked back at Charles. ¨We are visiting here for the time being.¨ Seeing or feeling the dejection in Charles, he continued with a small smile, ¨We'll be staying close by until we have spoken to a certain brother of ours.¨ Frost frowned a little and scrutinized first Shaw and then Charles. ¨We might stay for a few weeks. Even months.¨

At that, Charles grinned at them. ¨Then would you mind if we met again sometime?¨

¨That would be nice, Charles. Can Emma contact you¨, Shaw touched his forehead with a finger and turned to point it at Charles, ¨personally?¨

Charles nodded and left. He brought his fingers to his temple again and ordered Randall to walk beside him. He had never felt as happy as when he left the two other mutants behind him. It was a happiness that filled him, just like the knowledge that he was special had filled him when he was young, but in a different way. Now he knew he was not alone.

.-.-.

Charles and Emma talked with each other telepathically quite often. Sometimes they would meet physically, along with Sebastian but most of the time Charles just enjoyed knowing that he only needed to send his mind out there, looking for that specific mind, to talk to Emma. And she very rarely turned down Charles' 'social calls'.

At first they would speak of trivial things, and as months went by their talks became more philosophical, more about important things. Charles would ask of other mutants, what their mutations were like and Emma would answer. Sometimes. The first time Charles asked about Sebastian, she snapped at him and did something that bounced Charles straight from her mind back to his own body. Quite violently.

The next time they talked, Charles asked her excitedly,** Emma, what on **_**earth**_** did you do last time? Did you block me?**

_Ah_, she answered in a faintly sheepish tone, _I'm sorry, Charles. Did it hurt?_

**A little. But not much... Emma? Would you tell me?** Charles was practically bursting with curiosity. He wondered if Emma would tell him and whether he himself would be able to do that. The thought of being able to lock down and shield one's own mind with such abruptness was beyond fantastic to Charles.

_It's part of my mutation. I can turn myself into a diamond form._

**Wh-What? But that's incredible, Emma! You mean you actually become a diamond?**

_Yes. It makes my mind impenetrable to other telepaths._

Charles remained silent for a while, overcome by awe. **That... That really is **_**groovy**_**, Emma. Do you think I might be able to do that as well?**

Emma laughed at the use of his new favourite word, but sobered up at Charles' question. _I doubt it. If you have not turned into the diamond form already, I seriously doubt it's even a part of your mutation._

**Oh**, Charles couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. He rallied himself, **Do you think I might be able to do something similar?**

_Frankly, I don't know, Charles. That would depend on your mutation_, she told him consolingly.

Charles had agreed and moved onto other things. He hadn't asked about Sebastian's mutation again.

.-.-.

Arriving at the Central Park, thirteen years old Charles Xavier felt a great onslaught of emotion coming from a certain part of the park. He grinned a little and moved toward the lust, admiration and envy that was radiating from the people. He lightly touched the mind of Emma Frost, who seemed to be feeling rather smug at the effect that she had on the other people.

**Emma.**

Charles could see her now, sitting on a bench near a small body of water. Emma's legs were crossed, her usual tight and small skirt showing more of her thighs than normally. She turned her face toward him and gave him a sensuous smile, one that has had men literally begging for her to be 'friendly' with them.

¨Charles.¨ Emma stood up, moving to meet him halfway. She draped her arm around his shoulders and gave Charles a quick peck on the head. Charles answered Emma's smile with one of his own, unconsciously making it as sensual as hers was as his own arm moved to encircle her waist. He had the habit of picking up on her mannerisms, making him more flirtatious when around her. Charles had not noticed, not even when their 'social calls' had made him act in that manner although Emma was not there.

¨You shouldn't toy with people, Emma¨, he lightly scolded her, though he knew by now that she would not listen to him.

Emma scoffed and they started to walk away, ignoring the envious and burning (with lust or hate, depending on which one it was directed at) thoughts sent at them. Charles, in some way, could understand why people reacted the way they did around Emma. He had felt it, and yet the feeling had never been his to start with. If there was a way Charles regarded Emma, it was strictly sisterly. The feeling was enhanced by the fact that Emma and Charles had the same kind of mutation, making it easy for them to understand each other.

_So, Charles. What is the reason you wanted to see me?_ Emma asked casually, her finger drawing circles on Charles' shoulder. Her eyes flitted over to a man who passed them at that moment, sending a shiver down his spine. Both Emma and Charles felt it.

Charles shook his head, trying to rid it of the man's lingering thoughts. **It's nothing really. I just...**

_You just?_

Charles tightened his hold on her waist. He bit his lower lip in thought. **Do you remember when Father got that promotion last year?** He watched a little girl skip toward them on the street, her mother following after her.

_In Mr. Stark's company. Yes, you seemed very happy for him._ Her tone was derisive; Emma had never liked Charles' father.

Charles glanced quickly at her when she spoke of Mr. Stark, an image of an imposing man flashing across their telepathic connection. **Well, it seems like Father has saved some money from his pay****.**

Emma tilted her head a little. _And? What has he done now?_ She received a memory from Charles' mind; his family sitting down for dinner and discussing something.

**He's bought a house in the country.**

Emma stopped them and turned to Charles fully, letting her arm fall back to her side. They were standing in front of a small, well-liked café. She raised an eyebrow at Charles, obviously having heard the hurt in his tone.

Charles nervously played with his fingers. **He's sold our house and he wants us to move to the new house as soon as we can. It's close enough that he can get to work from there in the mornings and return in the evenings.** Charles had not been happy to hear that, he rather liked their current home. In fact, he had thought he would live in it for the rest of his life.

Emma stared at him for a while, until she turned and walked to the door of the café. Charles followed her and opened the door to her. The café was quite full, the tables crowded with men and women. Persons from both sexes tried to watch them surreptitiously as the two passed. They sat down near the end of the large room.

All that time, Emma had remained silent, though Charles knew that she was thinking furiously. Emma was that kind of person.

_You don't want to move_, Emma finally said, her blue eyes looking at Charles.

Charles sighed and gave her the mental equivalent of a shrug. He didn't want to seem more insane than he already was to all the people who were looking at them. **Not really. Our house isn't that small even!** An image of Charles' mother looking at him with a smile on her lips, and saying those words leaked to Emma.

Her lips pinched tight almost imperceptibly. _Then why don't you 'charm' them to change their minds?_

**I wouldn't!** Charles couldn't keep the horror from the tone of his mental voice.

_Why not, Charles?_ Emma's eyebrow rose again.

Charles frowned at her, **My teacher-** He stopped suddenly, grief clogging his throat.

Her voice was infinitely kinder than usual as she asked, _The one who died?_

**Yes**, Charles nodded. **He always said that if you **_**are**_** better then someone then you should **_**be**_** the better man as well****.** He never knew for sure, but he suspected that the man had realized about Charles' mutation.

The stare he received from Emma was blank. _What... do you mean?_

**We are mutants. We should not use our mutation on people who cannot protect themselves from it. We should be the better men and treat humans as precious****.**

Emma leant back on her chair and crossed her legs again. _That's a bit hypocritical of you, Charles. May I remind you that __**you**__ had a 'charmed' servant with you the first time we met? And hasn't it been only a few months since your teacher passed away?_

Charles pulled a face. **I know that. And maybe I haven't acted entirely upon this thought, but...** He looked around himself, accidentally exchanging glances with people who were looking at them. He turned back to her, **But charming my parents is a little too much. What would you feel like if you'd had to charm Sebastian to have him not do something that you didn't want to happen?**

Emma's face froze, her eyes narrowing.

Charles knew that using Sebastian as an example was a bad idea, but he didn't think there was anyone else Emma respected, _loved_, more than him. **I meant that you just wouldn't do that to him. It's the same for me with my parents. They gave birth to me, Emma. I **_**owe**_** them the respect of not charming them. Servants are a different thing altogether.**

Emma nodded slowly, _I think I understand, Charles._ She placed her hand on top of his on the table.

A waiter came to them at that moment. ¨Good day. Would you like to have something?¨ He smiled at Emma widely, the smile and his thoughts suggesting things he would like to have with her. His eyes were condescending when they landed on Charles.

Emma's eyes flashed dangerously. She gave him a sweet little smile. ¨A coffee. And make it quick, please.¨ _You slimy little-_

**Emma.** Charles smiled widely at the waiter. ¨A coffee for me too, please.¨

The waiter was blinking quickly, confused at the feeling of having been insulted when no such thing had been said. ¨Of course...¨ He turned away and left the two alone.

¨Thank you¨, Charles called after the man, before turning back to Emma. **Really, was that necessary?**

She was smiling devilishly at him and laughing quietly to his mind. _Yes, of course it was! And don't say that you didn't enjoy it, Charles. Good boys don't lie._

Charles stared at her for a second before bursting out laughing. **Emma!**

They laughed like that for a few seconds. When the looks of the people became too curious and direct, Emma sent out a thought to everyone; _No one of interest is here._ Charles could not say he agreed with her on doing it, he had learned his lesson with Eileen, but he was relieved that the people started to mostly ignore the two.

_And anyway, Charles..._

Charles looked at Emma again. **Yes?**

_Why do you have to go with them, Charles, if you don't want to do it?_

Charles frowned, **I thought it was obvious. They are my parents. They have to look after me until I'm of age.**

Emma nodded and sighed, _Of course. But Charles... I want you to think about this before you answer. I know how much you like thinking, so do that before anything._ Even though her words were a little teasing, her eyes were completely serious.

**All right.**

_What if you came with me?_

**What?** Charles stared at Emma in shock. **What?**

She smiled a grim little smile, _Charles, you can't feel at ease with them. Even though they are your parents, they are __**humans**__.__ They'd never understand what you are or what you are going through. If you are really that loath to move to...?_

**Westchester.**

_...Westchester, then why don't you just come with me? Sebastian wouldn't mind. Nor would the others._ Emma was leaning her elbows on the table, her chin propped on her interlaced fingers as she gazed calmly at him.

**Move... with you?** Charles felt surprised at the offer. Although Emma and Sebastian had been in contact with him for two years now, there had been an unvoiced agreement that Charles would not become one of the mutants that Sebastian was trying to get to join their yet unknown cause. **I-**

Emma held up a hand. _Think about it, Charles. Promise me._

Charles nodded shakily, **I promise.** He looked away from her just in time to see their coffees arriving.

They changed the topic.

.-.-.

_Charles..._

Charles opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling on top of him. He was lying on his back on his bed. **Emma?** He sent out his mind and connected easily with hers. **What is it?**

_How long is it before you move?_

**Two weeks.** Charles closed his eyes again. He was surprised that Emma would contact him this late in the night; it was three o'clock already.

Emma was silent for a few seconds. When she spoke, her voice was a little hesitating, _Have you thought of my proposition? About coming to live with us?_

Charles nodded even though Emma could not see him. **Yes, I have.**

_And?_

**I don't think... I should do that, Emma.**

_You don't think you __**should**__?_ Her tone was biting.

**No.** Charles could feel her irritation. **Emma, I love my parents. Even though they are doing this because they don't want the whole world to know of me**, and boy did that thought hurt, **they are still doing it **_**for**_** me.**

Emma remained silent then. _I knew you would say that. Have you seen this Westchester place yet?_

**Yes**, Charles sighed. **It was big. A little castle almost.**

Emma let out a little laugh, _Why don't you come to see our place as well?_

Charles frowned and turned onto his stomach. **But how would-**

_You could see through my eyes, Charles. Sebastian could speak with you and we could show you around. Maybe you might change your mind._

**I doubt it, Emma.**

_Well, yes. I doubt it too. But Sebastian insists._

Charles sighed again, **Fine, fine. I'll see your home. When?**

_Now?_

Charles' eyes opened again. **Now? Are you sure? It's three-**

_Charles, it's twelve where I am. And nobody will care if you do. Plus you don't seem to be going to sleep in a while, so you might as well use the time._

**Oh. I guess it's okay then.** Charles closed his eyes again and reached out to Emma. She was a way away, but being so closely connected to her mind made it easy. And neither of them were weak telepaths to begin with. Very slowly Charles moved closer to her mind, her thoughts. For a second he could hear her thoughts and memories better than ever before, and there seemed to be something, a darkness inside her mind that would have made Charles' skin crawl if he had been in his body still. Quickly, most of her self was veiled by Emma and Charles lost the thread of his worry.

He wondered instead, **You live on the west coast?**

_Hmm-m. Yes, near enough_, Emma answered absent-mindedly. _Ready, Charles? Come a bit closer._ Charles felt Emma tugging gently at him and he moved obligingly where she wanted. _Ready?_

At Charles' affirmative response, Emma opened her eyes.

She was lying on a sofa in a comfy looking room. There was the sofa, a big and white one, a bookcase made of a dark wood covering one wall. In the middle of the three sides of the sofa was a coffee table. In one corner, above three small steps, Charles could see a counter, some kind of bar most likely. Sebastian was sitting across the small table from Emma's lying body, drinking something and reading a stack of papers. There was a glass of something sitting in front of Emma.

¨Sebastian¨, Charles said with Emma's voice. She moved her body to a sitting position. Emma would be in control of her limbs and the rest of her body, while Charles intruded enough to just see through her eyes and occasionally use her mouth.

Sebastian looked up and smiled a little. ¨Emma. You're back already, dearest. How did it go with Charles?¨ His smile seemed to widen a bit hungrily.

Although Sebastian's smile put him on edge, Charles answered the smile with a grin of his own. Frankly, Sebastian always made him a bit bewildered for some reason.

When Sebastian still didn't seem to realize that it was Charles rather than Emma, Charles spoke again, ¨No, it's me. Charles. Emma said I should see your home.¨

Sebastian seemed to freeze for a second and then he laughed a little, ¨Well, of course! Hello, Charles. I apologize for not recognizing you.¨ He put the papers on the table in front of him and placed his glass next to the papers. He stood up and spread his arms in greeting gesture. ¨Welcome to our humble abode.¨

_Yes, Charles. Welcome_, Emma thought in a sarcastic tone.

Charles grinned with Emma's mouth. ¨Thank you¨, he told them both.

¨Ah, but I'm sorry. It has taken me a while before I convinced Emma to even get to contact you and now that you have finally arrived, I have work¨, Sebastian explained with an apologetic look. He indicated the papers, ¨They came just now and I really have to look into them.¨

¨It's fine, Sebastian.¨

Sebastian turned and strode up to the counter and a black telephone on top of it. He took the receiver and waited for a while. In seconds he commanded, ¨Azazel! Come here for a bit, please.¨ He came back and sat down on the sofa again.

A man suddenly materialized put of nowhere in an interesting puff of dark smoke. He was tall and dark in a way that made you slightly wary of him at first, because his skin was a startling red. His hair was black and his eyes that were regarding Sebastian were dark and gloomy-looking. His clothes, a suit reminiscent of Russia with the buttons of the jacket closed on one side of his chest and smart shoes, were black. His face was littered with many scars, one of the most impressive stretching from his forehead down over his left eyebrow and eye and into his left cheek. A long, red tail twisted around his other leg.

¨Azazel, you remember Charles?¨ Sebastian indicated Emma with his hand.

Azazel turned his black eyes to her. He raised his eyebrows at seeing Emma instead of Charles as would have been expected.

Charles smiled at Azazel, ¨Hello, Azazel. I'm borrowing Emma's eyes for a while.¨ What Charles knew of the mutant was very little; he was of Russian or East-European decent, he spoke rarely and was valued by Sebastian and Emma both.

Azazel nodded and looked back at Sebastian. The man smiled again and picked up the papers from the table. ¨Would you help Emma show Charles around? I have heard that having two minds in the same body at the same time when they both are in 'control' can be quite... hard. We wouldn't want Emma to fall down and hurt herself.¨

Azazel turned his gaze again to Emma and Charles. He scrutinized them and finally nodded, ¨Yes. I'll do it.¨ His words were accented heavily, the Slavic native tongue obvious to the listener.

Emma very slowly stood up (**Whoa, you're tall, Emma****.**), almost falling down when Charles still felt his body lying down on his own bed far away from where his mind was currently occupying and accidentally trying to force Emma's to mimic it. Azazel quickly took hold of her shoulders to support her. He put his arm around her waist and placed her arm over his shoulder as if she was wounded.

They started the difficult journey up the steps, Emma stumbling occasionally when Charles tried unconsciously to take control. At the door and the hallway, a lighted up dark place with a thick red carpet muffling the sounds of their footsteps, Charles and Emma established a precarious balance of control and Azazel was sure enough on it to let her body go.

**Don't turn into your crystal from, Emma. I bet being sent across the continent so suddenly would hurt a lot.**

Emma laughed lightly, _Oh, yes... I'll try._

She opened her mind to Azazel a bit more and started to tell Charles about trivial things, with Charles taking a peek at the rooms from their doorways. They passed studies and bathrooms, a large kitchen at one point. A few of the rooms seemed to be some kind of mapping room while one was definitely a library. All the rooms had been provided with expensive looking furniture, and the main colours were mostly dark tones, a blinding white or a vibrant red.

It was when they came to a landing with another hallway leading to their right and stairs made of dark wood with a red carpet going upwards on their left. Charles could feel something almost animal-like and familiar from the stairs. It must have been very strong for Charles to feel it even when he was dampened and surrounded as he was by Emma's mind.

**What's there?**

Azazel glanced at the stairs while Emma tilted her head upwards looking at the ceiling itself. She smirked lightly and Charles felt a strange mix of elation and disgust from her. _We seem to have more customers than usual tonight._

**Customers?** Charles was oddly afraid to ask and know, but his mind had always been too curious for its own good.

Azazel stared at Emma's face, looking at Charles in her eyes. ¨You don't know?¨

**No.**

¨This is a nightclub¨, Azazel said calmly and turned to walk down the other hallway.

**A nightclub?**

Emma followed after Azazel. _Yes. It was Sebastian's idea. He thought that this might be a good way for mutants to come to us._

Charles blinked Emma's eyes in bewilderment, **What?**

_Mutants are always shunned by humans, Charles. For those__,__ who are hard to find, the ones who hide themselves, think they are meaningless. Irrelevant. They will ask for menial jobs at horrible places. A strip club is one of these._ Emma quickly grinned by her mouth before Charles took control of it again, _There is a rumour going on that the Hellfire Club is willing to take on the most interesting of employees._

Charles stayed silent, shocked that people he knew, his _friends_ and fellow mutants, would think like that and act on it.

Emma continued casually, like she did not feel Charles' surprise, _Of course we are not proud of what we do here, Charles. Most of our kind never work up there in __**that**__ way. The Club is just a facade under which we... congregate__._

Emma's mind felt suddenly dangerous to Charles, the darkness from before resurfacing again. There seemed to be horrible memories in there, and yet some of the fleeting, veiled memories caused a thrill of joy go through him. He tried to block them as well as he could, but he had never been very good at it. Nowhere near as good as Emma.

It was only because of the unvoiced agreement between them on not asking too much, that Charles remained silent. It had nothing to do with the foreboding feeling he had from Emma's words and memories. Such things did not usually deter him from inquiring about things.

There was a slightly unnerving quiet as the two walked down the hallway, all three thinking their own or the others thoughts.

Charles felt relieved when Emma spoke, _Charles, you were already awake when I came. Still hard for you to fall asleep?_ She sounded like her slightly bitter self again with unusual concern and unease lacing the tone as well.

Charles relayed a memory of staying awake for hours to Emma. **It's gotten harder lately. The thoughts just will not go away.** He showed her his mother scolding him at breakfast for staying up all night.

Emma snorted, _Well, that figures. I used to have that problem too._ She gave him her own memory, laying on her bed, eyes open and body tense as the thoughts of others intruded on her sleep.

**And the diamond form? Couldn't you have blocked them?**

_Yes, but when I was young I hadn't even realized it would work. And I never like to sleep like that._ Grinning, Emma showed Charles a memory of waking up and finding the sheets full of holes her diamond fingers, arms and legs had done during the night.

Charles grinned back at her, and he felt Azazel huff with laughter as well. **What do you do now then**, he asked, his curiosity back.

He felt an unusually strong wave of happiness from Emma. _Sebastian made a special bedroom for me. It stops thoughts from entering it._

**Really? You mean you can actually sleep like normal?** Charles did not even remember what it had felt like to not be influenced by people's nightly thoughts. When he had been young, a nurse had always slept in the next room. He remembered one particular nurse littered with bad memories and thoughts who had had almost every night a nightmare. Suffice to say, he had not slept much until his mother had fired the poor woman.

_Yes. Sebastian used my diamond form as inspiration._

**Hmm...** Charles started thinking furiously, musing to himself, **The walls and floor and ceiling must be made of some kind of glassy substance then. Crystal... Or would a mirror suffice?**

Azazel turned to look at him, a strange expression on his face.

Emma laughed, _Well, aren't you the smart little boy, Charles. Mirrors are enough__._ Feeling the smugness from Charles, she laughed again, _Would you like to see it? I know that if something is going to make you stay, it will be that._

For a second Charles hesitated, the thought Emma had sent giving him a foreboding feeling. Then his curiosity took over. **Could I?**

Azazel nodded and started to move again, leading the way down the corridor. Charles was surprised to see that they had stopped walking at some point, earlier than just a few minutes ago surely, because this hallway looked like the same one they had taken from the stairs. They hadn't even looked at any of the rooms that had passed.

They soon reached a door at the end of twisting turns of hallways, through which they found a large bare room, the walls white and taller than normal and the floor made of the same dark wood used in the rest of the house. In the middle of the room there was a circular little building, no door whatsoever in sight.

**Is that?** Charles felt awed and surprised; it didn't look anyway different from a normal detached little room inside a larger room. **And where is the door?**

Emma nodded her head. _Yes, that's it. The door is concealed and it's tight. A perfect fit, so as not to let even the tiniest of thoughts in._ She was silent for a few seconds, letting Charles scrutinize the outside of the room. _Would you like to go inside and see?_

**But I can't, can I? I'm made of thoughts at the moment, Emma**, Charles explained to her, feeling a bit dejected at not being able to see the inside of the room as well.

_We could always try..._ Emma's voice petered out in thought.

**What?**

_Well, I don't know if it will work_, Emma started, _but we could try using my diamond form. If I drew you close enough to myself and included you in the form, you might be able to stay._

When Charles thought of it as well, he found that _in theory_ it should work, but the hypothesis still had some big holes in it. **Yes, but if the whole purpose of the room is to keep insubstantial thoughts out, don't you think even that will not work?**

_We can always try._ Emma resolutely took hold of Azazel's arm. _Close my eyes, Charles. I need to concentrate._

Charles did as he was told. Soon, the feeling of being drawn closer to Emma crept up his, or her, spine. He could still faintly feel his own body in his bed, but when a new feeling appeared, this one reminiscent of Emma's veiling, he lost even that small sensation. It made him slightly panicky and thrilled. Charles had never thought anything could feel like this, the sensation of being cut off something completely new to him.

Slowly Emma tugged at Azazel's arm, asking him to take them toward the room. He did, stopping halfway there to grab and carry her in his arms when she almost fell again, the concentration eating away her motoric skills.

Charles knew immediately when they were at the door. Even though he could not see anything and he was refraining himself from looking through Azazel's eyes, he knew. There was a faint swishing sound as the door opened and he could smell stale air as if the door had not been opened for a while now. He could also feel a slightly disturbing tingling sensation at the edge of his mind.

It was at that moment that Charles Xavier realized that there was still one thing they had not considered.

Before Charles could say anything to Emma, she had already drawn him so close to her that he could see her memories and life freely, all her thoughts laid bare at his feet. Few struck him deeply.

_Sitting at a bench, watching an eleven year old boy and a grown man walk away. ¨How strong is he?¨ ¨Pretty strong for his age.¨ ¨Will he surpass you?¨ ¨Yes, I think so, at one point.¨ Laughter. ¨Will he join us?¨ ¨I'm not sure, but somehow... I doubt it.¨ ¨Then we will have to figure out a way to get rid of the boy before long.¨ ¨Yes.¨_

_Sitting at a sofa, feet propped before her on the coffee table, ending a talk with a smart boy. ¨How did it go?¨ ¨Charles is surprising. He let me in.¨ ¨Just like that?¨ ¨Yes. He even let me see his very mentality.¨ ¨?¨ ¨What makes him tick, Sebastian.¨ ¨And? Do you think he might join us?¨ ¨Definitely not. Only after half a year and I can say with certainty that that boy is too idealistic to do that.¨ A sigh. ¨Oh dear. It seems we do need to get rid of him.¨ ¨Should I send Azazel? As a test?¨ ¨Not yet, I have something else planned for him, but he could do that later on.¨_

_Laying on a bed, waking up and realizing something about the strong boy. ¨Sebastian.¨ ¨...What is it..?¨ ¨Charles...¨ ¨...What about him?¨ ¨He's having a nightmare.¨ ¨And, Emma? What about that?¨ ¨We're in Vegas and he's in New York. He's projecting the nightmare across the continent while unconscious!¨ ¨Amazing.¨ ¨Yes.¨ ¨A pity that he would not join us.¨ ¨...¨ ¨But... we could _make_ him stay with us.¨ ¨Sebastian?¨ ¨Do you not think it would be wonderful if we could _trap_the boy?¨ ¨Trap him?¨ ¨Yes. He would make a lovely pet, don't you think? And you have grown so fond of him.¨ Laughter. ¨Maybe I have. But I like that idea as well.¨_

_Standing on a street in front of a little café, looking into the blue eyes of a boy. **This could be our chance. The perfect reason...**_

All of that came to Charles in a second, as fast as if it had been his own memory he had recollected rather than Emma's. He understood the mistake he had made at trusting those two he had met at the park, his mistake in not asking Emma _anything_. And he knew that it was too late to do something, because they had already crossed the threshold and the feeling of numbness overcame him. Except that this numbness _hurt like hell_. His mind seemed to convulse, trying in vain to find a handhold or a foothold to drag himself out of the room and pain and-

_Calm, Charles. Calm yourself._

But Charles couldn't as the pain just increased and increased and with horror he realized that the door was closing again and _if it closed_-

_Click._

Charles screamed. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe he couldn't.

The absence of body hurt and now Emma had turned into her diamond form and spat him out of her mind and he was searching for Azazel and he could feel Azazel and then he disappeared too and Charles wasn't sure if it was because Emma was shielding the man as well or because he had teleported them away from the room and _god, it hurts_...

There was nothing, no body, no anything. Just darkness.

At some point the pain disappeared, but the absence of anything hurt in a much more horrible way.

There was no one else, no diamond woman to see him, no cruel man to laugh at him, no red man to take him away. There was no mother, no father, no mad maid, no smart teacher. No one.

_No one._

* * *

><p>What'd you think? Was it any good? Did it suck? Tell me, please, and help me get better! Or if you just want to have a nice chat, I'm open for that as well. :) Oh, and if you do review... Tell me whether you wanted a happy ending for this one or not. I might write something, but I would need some more ideas for that. And only if enough people say that it'd be much better with a happy ending. But it might take some time...<p>

Ta!

Edit: Okay, it took almost two hundred reders and four reviews for **someone** to tell me there was an author's note in the **middle** of the story... Well, thank you again, Macs, and shame on you, you others. :) Ta!


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